


that I might see with my chest and sink into the edges round you

by spiraldistortion (bisexualthorin)



Series: Jonah Madness [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bloodplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Medical Kink, No Sex, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualthorin/pseuds/spiraldistortion
Summary: “There’s something fascinating about the line between pain and pleasure.” Jonathan presses the scalpel in just above Jonah’s navel. “The way they seem to intertwine. What reason could there be for a beast to feel such ecstasy in its moments of deepest agony?”
Relationships: Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus
Series: Jonah Madness [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723834
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus





	that I might see with my chest and sink into the edges round you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skvadern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/gifts).



> This is the fifth of a series of requests Jay (@gummybyrd on twitter) and I took as a part of a Jonah-centric art/fic collab we ran live on discord. We gave ourselves 5 minutes to plan and 40 minutes to work, and these are the results!
> 
> The prompt for this was "sadist Jonathan vs painslut Jonah." 
> 
> The title is from Purity Ring by Fineshrine
> 
> As always, huge thanks and love to everyone in the eye horror server!

“Hold very still,” Jonathan tells him. Jonah stretches once against the straps at his wrists, testing them, before he complies

“This will hurt,” he says. He looks down to watch the drag of the flat of the scalpel against Jonah’s chest. His muscles jump at the cold press of metal, straining closer and away all at once. “But we don’t need to make an undue mess."

The tip of the blade bites into the skin just below Jonah’s collarbone, and Jonah hisses a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Did you know that the human body contains approximately five liters of blood?” Jonathan braces his other hand on Jonah’s chest, just over where his heart thuds against under his ribcage, and drags the scalpel down his sternum. The skin splits easily, parting around the blade to let crimson blood well up around it. Jonah shudders out a slow breath and tries not to move.

Jonathan leans over, observes his work with sharp eyes. He slides his palm across Jonah’s chest, fingertips slipping through the blood to push at the edges of the cut. Jonah cries out against the pain, straining against his bonds.

“Doing that will only bruise your wrists,” Jonathan tells him. “Do you want those marks as a reminder of me, too?”

Jonah feels as if every muscle in his body is pulled taut, strings waiting to be cut. He breathes through his nose, trying to calm himself.

Jonathan brings the scalpel to the other side of Jonah’s chest and begins again.

“One can lose about one-and-a-half liters of blood before they fall unconscious,” he tells him. “The human body is quite remarkable.”

Jonah moans brokenly when Jonathan bends over his chest to lick at the wound. When he looks back up, his mouth and chin are dripping red.

“There’s something fascinating about the line between pain and pleasure.” Jonathan presses the scalpel in just above Jonah’s navel. “The way they seem to intertwine. What reason could there be for a beast to feel such ecstasy in its moments of deepest agony?”

The upward drag of the scalpel is _excruciating_ —exquisite in the way it seems to hold the passage of time and stretch it between the blade and his skin. By the time Jonathan connects this cut to the two others, Jonah is a dizzy, sobbing mess.

The clang of metal on wood as Jonathan drops the scalpel makes Jonah jump, and the movement presses his torso into Jonathan’s cool hands. He pushes upwards through the blood, smearing it across Jonah’s chest, to grasp his face. He rubs his thumb under Jonah's eye, mingling the blood and the tears. Mouth still shining red, he presses his lips to Jonah’s, pushing the taste of Jonah’s blood into his mouth. Jonah whines into the kiss, arching himself into it, pressing his chest into stinging contact with Jonathan’s coat.

“I love the look of pain on you, Jonah,” he groans against his lips. “Aching and beautiful just for _me_.”


End file.
